


Becoming

by purplesocrates



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, M/M, Murder, Scar Worship, Will kills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 05:19:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12425832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesocrates/pseuds/purplesocrates
Summary: Post season 3.  Will is trying to understand how killing makes him feel, struggling to accept the darker side of himself.  He commits murder with Hannibal watching as a way of exploring what is means to him and how it makes him feel.  Hannibal cooks the spoils of Will's hunt and they share an intimate moment.





	Becoming

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Murder Husbands Big Bang. Art by @nim-lock (will update with a link once they post)

[art link](http://nim-lock.tumblr.com/post/166638097895/nim-lock-for-murder-husbands-big-bang-becoming)

 

 

Was it good to see me Will?”

  
“Good, no.”

  
\-----

It felt like a hollowing out, a vacant space, a screaming, harrowing void.  He felt thinned out and stretched.  He felt _empty_ , as if Hannibal had reached inside him and pulled everything out, gutting him properly this time, heart, lungs, organs and all,  blood flooding out between them while Hannibal pretended to smile.  
That night Will dreamt of crashing waves and drowning, of falling and dying and being finally complete.

  
\------  
“What do you feel now Will?”  Hannibal’s voice is laced with the physical pain of his healing wounds.  ”Now we are here among the dead you spent so much time with.”

  
Will watches as the words leave Hannibal’s mouth and drip onto the floor, burning a hole like acid in the wood before responding.   “Are we still having conversations Doctor?”  
Hannibal smiles “did we ever stop?  I know I didn’t, I spoke to you all the time in my mind palace visiting those rooms we shared.  The ones we still share.”

  
Will manages to look up from the floor and meet Hannibal’s eyes, an act which he realises is becoming increasingly easier for him, he isn’t sure how he feels about this yet.  He sighs and says “I stopped.”

  
Hannibal looks hurt for a moment, as he realises his imagined Will was indeed nothing but imagined.  Somehow he had thought perhaps they were really speaking across the snow somewhere.  He allows the illusion to crumble as he faces the reality sat opposite him, the living and breathing, blood pumping, lungs expanding, pulse beating reality of Will Graham.

  
“Am I still ‘Doctor’ to you?”  Hannibal asks this without a single trace of irony which Will finds more than a little ironic and the question has left a bitter taste in Will’s mouth.  
Will laughs and sips his whiskey “no.”  He states in response.

  
Hannibal’s voice is its usual even tone making Will itch from the inside out. “So what am I to you?”

  
“Honestly? I have no idea.”  Will looks at this man opposite him and sighs again “what am I to you?”

  
Hannibal smiles “we are conjoined - as you once said.”

“You haven’t answered the question.” Will stares back into the fire, looking into the flames he wonders what blood smells like when it’s burned, like oil maybe or molasses.

“Do I need to?”

“Perhaps not.”  Will sighs yet again, he has a sudden realisation that he is sighing a lot these days.   There is a lull, a pause filled with tension and a question that has been hanging between them for weeks now, Will decides he can’t keep it inside his mouth any longer. “Do you think about it?”

Hannibal arches his eyebrow and shifts in his seat trying to get comfortable the stitches in his side itch these days, for some reason more at night, he knows this means he is healing but it still irks him that he has to heal at all. “About what?” He responds as if he doesn’t know exactly to what Will is referring, as if he doesn’t always know.

“Killing, hunting, that night we slayed the dragon.  Do you think about it?”

Hannibal closes his eyes and sniffs the air conjuring the coppery smell of blood, sweat and pain mingling, of Will and him together in a single purpose. “Yes.”  He opens his eyes, “do you?”

Will looks back into the fire, it gets cold here in the evenings or perhaps they do, blood loss will do that to you.  Hannibal patiently waits for an answer from Will, he doesn’t push him anymore not explicitly anyway.  The silence stretches out between them and Hannibal imagines all the thoughts growing in Will’s brain as night blooming flowers under a bright, full moon, black petals glinting in the moonlight.

“Yes.”  The answer makes Hannibal’s skin hum.

“How does it make you feel?”

Will rolls his eyes at Hannibal who just serenely smiles.

“I thought we established you weren’t a Doctor anymore.  Don’t psychoanalyse me, you won’t like me when I’m psychoanalysed.”

Hannibal laughs and Will almost jumps at the sound but then joins him, his laugh is bitter and pointed and it causes Hannibal to wince.

“I did though, I liked you very much.”  Hannibal whispers this but Will hears him.

More silence, the fire crackles and Will sighs again. “Too much.”

“Arguably.”

 

“You didn’t answer my question.”  Hannibal can’t help it he needs to nudge if he can’t push.

“Always using my words against me Doctor.”

Hannibal smiles at that, his eyes gleam.  “So how does it make you feel?”

“It makes me feel as if I have left the blue for black.   I am not sure how to feel about that or rather intellectually I know but that does not match up to how I feel.  I should feel guilt, or regret at taking a life even if it was one worth taking.   I should feel plagued like I did over Gareth Jacob Hobbs,  they both should be haunting me but they aren’t.”

“You still can’t accept yourself, who you are?  After all this time.”  Hannibal sounds more fascinated than resigned.

“I can accept myself that’s the problem, I can see myself now as well as you.  It is my lack of reaction that concerns me.”

“You have already admitted to me that it feels good to do bad things to bad people.”  Hannibal was watching the light from the fire flicker across Will’s profile it made him think of all those times in his office, a different life, a different fire.

“In a different life I admitted that. Now I don’t even know if that’s what I feel, if killing the dragon felt good because he was bad or whether it was just the killing that felt good.”  Will’s voice is even and somehow soft it makes Hannibal ache to touch him, his fingers twitch slightly at the effort to not reach out.

“Do you think killing someone who was less deserving of your wrath would feel as good?”  Hannibal shifted again in his seat, interested.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”  Will knew it was true the moment he said it, the truth of it seemed important.  He wanted to hurt though, he wanted to feel that beauty once again, even if it was just once more, so he could turn it over in his mind study it.  “I killed your prisoner, turned him into a dragonfly, I can still smell the red wine mingling with the dirt, I can still feel the smooth dark green glass.  I can still feel the beauty of it, of creating something from death.”

Hannibal closes his eyes and tries to reach out to Will’s mind to see the image as he had, it is just smoke and mirrors though, dragonflies dancing in the dark illuminating small fragments of a whole. “I wish I could have seen it.”  Hannibal whispers as he opens his eyes.

“I know.”  Will sips his whiskey and looks once again at Hannibal who appears strangely wistful. “Do you wish we had displayed the dragon?”

“Instead of falling off a cliff?”  Hannibal would joke about this more than Will, the memory still made Will uncomfortable.  Mostly because Hannibal insisted he understood why Will did it, even if Will couldn’t entirely understand why he had, let alone why Hannibal had let him.  Will just would not allow the thought to take root so instead it was rotting in the undergrowth of his subconscious.

Hannibal noticed the way Will flinched every time he mentioned their fall, Hannibal was someone who did not shy away from fear even though when he thought about it he could still feel the bracing cold and salt in his blood.

“Yes instead of falling off a cliff.  What if we had stayed? What would you have done?  Would you have given him wings?”

Hannibal has dreamt of that night every night since, his dreams are entangled with dragon fire and the sound of large flapping wings disturbing the air but they all end the same, fire over cold water, heat and cold, freezing and burning him at the same time.  Will’s touch, the warmth of his blood then a sudden cold stabbing immersion.  He would wake up shivering in a cold sweat and look at Will across from him who seemed to sleep like the dead now, barely moving, just breathing.

“I feel as if we did.”  Black bloody wings turning red in the dawn light, he could see them behind Will’s eyes he wasn’t sure if Will could see them.

“Would you want to do it again?” This question had been teetering on the edge of Will’s lips for weeks every time he looked at Hannibal it almost spilled out.  There was something about tonight though, the firelight, the intimacy between them, this strange bubble forming around them that made it seem possible to utter them.  Either that or it’s the whiskey, Will idly thought.

“Alone or together?”  Hannibal asks this so nonchalantly that Will is momentarily taken aback.

Will thinks about it, he wonders what kind of killer he would make.  In the deepest recesses of his mind he has pondered this before but now those depths seem so much shallower the darkness so much closer to the surface, pushing against the thin skin of the water.

“I would want you there.” Will spoke with an openness, a practicality that would have seemed cold to anyone but Hannibal. “I need to understand this change inside me.  I feel like it’s pushing against my skin trying to get out, the control is harder to grasp.  I am not sure I could do it on my own.”  This wonderful admission makes Hannibal’s heart sing, Will knows this of course, it is part of his design.

“Together then.”

“Yes.”

“Together.”

Will smiles and looks back into the flames.

\-------

Hannibal watches as Will kills a man with his bare hands.

He can see the delicate bones of Will’s hands straining against his skin as balled up fists connect with facial bones, muscles and sinews.  He looks like a vengeful god, he looks like he is burning dark black flames.  He looks _supernatural_.  It gives Hannibal pause to see what Will has become, he could never have anticipated this. The night Will had brought Randal Tier to his home, he had bathed and dressed Will’s hands, blood mixing in the water.  Hannibal had wanted to lick the blood from Will’s knuckles with his tongue, he had longed to taste it.  He imagined Will would taste bitter laced with a sweetness, almost overpowering, lightening after a storm.

  
Will’s  breathing  is steady, even with the exertion of the constant blows.   His heart is a constant beat.  Hannibal wants to place his hand on Will’s chest so he can feel it just under the surface, blood pumping. Even with this apparent loss of control, Will is entirely in control of himself.

Will drags his victim up from the floor where he was lying with a growl of “get up.”  He holds the man in place with an iron grip around his neck, Hannibal shivers at the sight of the bones and sinews of Will’s powerful hands.  Will can smell the blood, he can feel it against his skin, the spray still warm.  He squeezes the man’s neck, just enough pressure for the man’s breath to stutter out of him.  Will smiles at the twisted pain the man is in and Hannibal briefly closes his eyes ensuring this image is burnt behind his eyelids.  
Slowly but with steady hands Will removes the knife from his pocket, it glints in the bright light of the living room.  He brings the knife up to the man’s eye level so Will can see his pupils dilate, his grip tightens as the man struggles, fingers impotently scratching at Will’s face and hands.  Will leans his head back and breathes out a long breath, Hannibal watches Will’s Adam’s apple bob up and down just under the skin.

The knife is moved with an elegant motion to the man’s stomach, pressed slightly against clothes, a small bead of blood as the knife breaks through the fabric and skin, it blossoms and Hannibal suppresses a moan.  Will looks at Hannibal then, eyes clear as thunder, and smiles.

Will pushes the knife further in, through skin into the muscle, the man is attempting to scream but Will’s hand around his throat and the damage done to his face allows nothing more than spluttering and coughing, thick rivulets of blood bubbling up his throat.  Will buries the knife to the hilt, it must have hit the stomach now, possibly tearing the intestine the pain would be exquisite.  It’s a pain Will knows intimately.  He knows exactly what he is inflicting.  He moves the knife upwards, Hannibal is reminded of Abigail gutting Nicholas Boyle.  Achingly slowly, so every blossom of thick, red, sticky blood can be seen and felt leaving the man’s body.  Will pushes the knife up the man’s torso slicing through flesh.

The man is opened up, blood is spurting now thick and fast over Will’s black clothes he can feel it warm and soaking through but it doesn’t bother him.  As he stares into the dying man’s eyes he switches his mind back on.  It had been a joyful, focused blank before this moment.  Now he allows the noise in.  He can hear the sputtering blood muffled dying cries, the body’s attempts to cling to life.  He remembers watching blood leave his own body in Hannibal’s kitchen.  How it felt like a wave of red that he was going to drown in.  He remembers the unnatural pain that was unlike anything he had ever experienced.  Feeling the numbness of his failing body, he remembers as he inflicts.  He turns the knife to the right, twists it slightly and the man starts to twitch, his face is pale, his eyes are dead, there is only the smallest of flickers left.  Will twists the knife again and watches that flicker leave.

Will removes the knife and then his hand from the man’s neck watching as the body slides down the wall to a crumpled pile on the floor.  Blood is still slowly being pumped out of the body as the heart finishes its death throes.   Will stands and surveys his design, knife hanging down at his side now, he looks at the man on the floor, taking in the sight and once again thinks.

He notices his breathing  which is still steady, his heartbeat is barely raised, he examines how he feels.  _Righteous perhaps, relieved, yes, relieved to have stopped fighting_ , he smiles not a grin but a small smile of satisfaction.   He is aware of Hannibal in the room still watching him, he looks over at him and is greeted by such an open expression of awe it makes Will laugh slightly.

“Does it still feel beautiful?”  Hannibal asks this with a something akin to breathless arousal that doesn’t make Will as uncomfortable as it perhaps should.  Will doesn’t feel aroused though he feels _complete and righteous_.

“Yes.”  Will raises his blood covered hands up so he can look at them and the knife he holds still dripping in blood. “Yes.”

Will looks back at Hannibal who is still smiling at him but now also looking strangely, or perhaps not that strangely, proud. It oddly makes Will want to hit him.  
He walks towards Hannibal, hands down at his side, still holding the knife, droplets of blood hit the floor silently.  He backs Hannibal up against the other wall, caging him in with one arm, he presses the knife up against Hannibal’s neck applying a small amount of pressure.  They are so close Hannibal’s sense of smell is overwhelmed with blood, sweat and Will.

“Are you proud?”  Will’s voice has an edge to it now and Hannibal allows himself to be thrilled by it.

“Does that make you angry?  Do you feel manipulated?  Do you honestly feel anything other than yourself right now?”  Hannibal whispers this while meeting Will’s eyes unfazed by the violence unleashed behind them, or the knife pressed up against his throat.

Will realises that Hannibal is right he doesn’t feel manipulated he feels whole, complete and himself for the first time in his life.  He doesn’t immediately move away enjoying Hannibal’s gaze on him, revelling in cornering him. Will smiles and licks his lips tasting blood and this makes Hannibal moan unable to suppress it this time.

“You like this.”

“I enjoy seeing you like this yes.”  Hannibal should want to move, to fight back against being cornered like this and he knows he could but he doesn’t. He can feel Will’s body almost pressed up against his and he doesn’t want it to end.

Will smiles again and releases Hannibal, walking away from him back to the body. “Did you want to take anything?”

Hannibal breathes in and out just managing to gather himself again.  “I am not sure if there is anything salvageable if you hit his intestine.  I can look.  Would you like that?  Would you like me to cook for you?”

Will feels a wave of arousal that surprises him at Hannibal’s words his eyes close and he sighs again but not from frustration, _anticipation_ , it’s palpable.  He opens his eyes again and meets Hannibal’s interested gaze. “Yes.”

“Very well.”  Hannibal moves towards Will and takes the hand that holds the knife, he brings the hand up to his lips.  “May I?”  Will almost imperceptibly nods and watches with fascination as Hannibal brings his tongue out and licks the broken skin, lapping up the mixture of bloods.  Will moans and Hannibal smiles.  “Thank you.”  Hannibal gently takes the knife from Will and releases his hand, he then turns his attention to the body.

Will watches Hannibal kneel down next to the body, he moves it so it’s lying flat, undoes the bloody and torn shirt to expose the gaping wound Will has left.  Will imagines steam rising from the body, the warmth leaving it. Hannibal takes gloves from his pocket and puts them on and then begins to examine the cavity. To Will, Hannibal’s hands inside the corpse remind him of the ambulance and that strange cloud of feeling that had overcome him at the sight of Hannibal’s hands inside another person's body, _strangely normal_ , he had thought at the time.

After a few moments of feeling inside Hannibal smiles “the liver is still intact.” Hannibal removes his hands and cuts the flesh by the liver with the knife Will had used to gut his victim.  Will watches as Hannibal expertly removes the liver, once it is removed he holds it in his hands for Will to see, the blood sheen still wet and slick.

They stand outside and watch the flames consume the house and all the evidence within, the flames soon reach high into the dark night sky and it won’t be long until the air is filled with sirens.

\-------

Will strips the bloody clothes from himself and leaves them on the bathroom floor to burn later.  He removes each layer of clothing slowly almost ritualistically if he was to analyse himself. _Don’t pick that particular scab Will_ , he thinks.  He looks at his hands which are still stained with blood, the coppery smell mixed with gasoline, he realises he might smell like burnt blood.  Once he is completely naked he looks at his reflection in the mirror not sure if he is going to recognise what he sees.

  
He looks at the man in the mirror, his face covered in blood splatters just like it was all those years ago after Gareth Jacob Hobbs, after Abigail.  He observes his face as the thought of Abigail flickers across his mind as gently as casting a line.  There is nothing there, perhaps a slight tremor behind the eyes, gone before it arrived.  He wonders at that, _do you still feel righteous?_ The question has her voice and he finds he is not sure of the answer so instead he shakes his head to dispel the thought.  
He reaches in and runs the shower, too hot, he wants to feel his skin burn as the blood is washed away.  
  
\-----  
  
Hannibal is looking at the liver as if it’s a gift from a god, he cannot quite contain the euphoria that is swimming around his head like thick smoke.  He has never really experienced euphoria before, he enjoys killing yes, he came close with the dragon he definitely lost control with the dragon.  The mask has been harder to place back on since, since Will.  The sight of Will shedding blood in a righteous fury was, he believes, the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.  He needs to honour this moment, he needs to worship his god appropriately.

Will appears fresh from his shower he looks pure and sanctified.  Hannibal walks over to him and takes his hands in his and examines the cuts and bruises. Will watches him as he does this, transported back to the first time they did this when Will was still under his own pretence of control.  Hannibal smiles at the shared memory and then gently leads Will to the kitchen table where he has prepared a bowl of warm water and bandages just as he did last time.  Will allows himself to be led to the chair and sits down.  Hannibal kneels down in front of him cleans his wounds and gently bandages his knuckles.

There is a strange silence between them, it’s almost as if they can hear each other heartbeats, Will’s is like an echo of Hannibal’s a few beats behind.  Will watches Hannibal’s careful movements, the tender way he touches Will’s hands, soft touches of his skin, the complete focus of his eyes, of his task.  They still haven’t spoken since they left the flames and drove home together.   Will knows that Hannibal is waiting for him, that the first words should come from him when he is ready.  Hannibal is savouring the silence and the moment, he is taking time to record it all.

Once Hannibal is finished he stands up and clears the detritus of bandages.  He then pours Will a glass of red wine passing it to him and watching as he takes a sip and nods approvingly.

“What are you cooking?”  Will says simultaneously breaking and casting a spell between them.

“I thought I would keep it simple so we can savour the taste.  Pan fried with Seville orange and onion relish served with a warm orange, almond and honey salad.”

Will nods and Hannibal walks away to begin cooking.  Will watches every movement he makes, it’s like a prayer when Hannibal cooks, the careful movements, the specific choices, the order, it’s so ritualistic that it’s hypnotic.  Will always enjoys watching Hannibal cook even before he could admit it to himself.

Hannibal heats up the pan and then adds the onions coating the pan and browning the onions, he tosses the pan with ease and it makes Will smile.  He turns his attention to the liver which he carefully picks up and coats in flour, after removing the onions he melts butter in the pan swishing it around until it’s coated, he then carefully adds the liver.  He expertly cooks it knowing exactly when to turn it and when it’s done.

The meal does not take long to cook and once Hannibal has masterfully plated it they both go to the dining room where Hannibal has set the table in his usual elegant, over-the-top style.

Hannibal places the plates down and then pulls out Will’s chair for him, he laughs and sits.  Hannibal pours him more wine and then fills his own glass he sits opposite Will.  They are both silent for a time watching each other.   Will moves first, confidently picking up his knife and fork he slices through the liver with minimal effort it’s so well cooked.  He smiles and then places the piece in his mouth allowing the richness to fill his mouth, taste buds tingle as he feels the meat melt on the heat of his tongue.  Hannibal watches all of this with a rapt attention.

“It’s delicious Hannibal.”

Hannibal nods and begins to eat, he muses that it may be the most wonderful meal he has ever tasted.

“So how do you feel?”

Will smiles as he eats another piece of liver this time with the relish it’s a wonderful combination, he thinks that this is a much too fine an end for someone so despicable.  He sips at his wine enjoying the pairing of the wine, a perfect compliment.

“I feel as if I have given in.”

“To your nature?”

“Yes.  I feel as if I have stopped fighting, I feel stronger, I feel quiet.”  He does his mind feels a sense of peace of acceptance it’s a little unnerving he smiles at the thought, he has never been at peace before.

Hannibal smiles “I’m glad.”

Will winces slightly still not entirely used to the idea that he is a part of Hannibal’s design, however willingly. “I know you are and that does irk me somewhat.”  
“Is that why you put the knife against my throat?”  Hannibal says this with no trace of anger, he can still feel the knife pressed up against his skin, he had hoped that Will would cut him and leave a scar.

“Perhaps I was curious to see what you would do.”

Hannibal laughed “you knew what I was going to do.”

Will smiled at the realisation that he had known exactly.   Hannibal had allowed himself to be completely at Will’s mercy in that moment, just as he had dreamt before, Hannibal would let Will hurt him, kill him. Will felt than a sense of euphoria at the idea, a growing sense of his power. “It felt as if you would have let me.  I have imagined it before, slitting your throat.”  The words left his mouth in a contained awe, but in awe nonetheless and this was not lost on Hannibal.  Nothing Will ever did was.

“I know you have imagined killing me before in many different ways.  You didn’t though, although perhaps you still might.”  The lightness of Hannibal’s tone as he said this, and then delicately picked up his wine glass to take a sip, belied the true passion with which he believed this.

Will thought about it, had he wanted to kill Hannibal in that moment? Possibly not, hurt him yes but then he was not sure what he would be now without him.  The idea thrilled and terrified him. “I am not sure I can anymore. We are passed the point of no return with each other.”  
Hannibal considered this while drinking his wine, savouring the rich flavour.

“Where are we now with each other?”  Hannibal places his glass down and looks at Will, imagining those night blooming flowers in his mind soaking up blood from the soil.

Will smiles and laughs slightly “still conjoined, arguably more so now.”

Hannibal nods “we are on the other side of each other’s veils.”

“Yes.”  _In so many ways_ , Will thought.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, a comfortable sort of bubble.  Will was aware that Hannibal was glancing over at him while he ate, that rapt attention, he was enjoying it more than he had expected.

  
Once they have finished Hannibal stands up to clear the plates.  Will stands and walks to Hannibal’s side of the table he places his hand on Hannibal’s to stop him.  Will then leans his body weight against Hannibal so he has to brace himself against the edge of the table.   They are so close that Hannibal is finding it had to catch his breath.  Hannibal opens his mouth to ask Will what he is doing but Will places his finger against Hannibal’s lips to quiet him. No words. Will thinks loud enough for both of them to hear.  
Hannibal can smell Will, the scent of his breath; wine and human flesh lingering there.  Hannibal wants them to only eat the same meals as each other forever so their breaths can smell the same.  He wants to be Will’s perfect mirror image, it is intoxicating.  Will is now tracing the shape of Hannibal’s lips with his finger, soft and tender, Hannibal is watching and feeling every movement.  Will’s other hand wraps itself firmly on Hannibal’s shoulder squeezing slightly.  The hand that is tracing his lips then cups the side of his face and then achingly slowly Will leans in and places his lips against Hannibal’s.  The feeling of being this close is impossibly overwhelming.   Hannibal is being overcome.  
Will kisses Hannibal so slowly at first that Hannibal moans with need for more.  Will smiles and deepens the kiss.  Their tongues touch and Hannibal can feel it through his entire body, moving one arm around Will’s waist he pulls him in closer.  Will’s hand snaked its way up to Hannibal’s face and into his hair gripping it.  The hand on Hannibal’s  shoulder scrapes its way down Hannibal’s back and Hannibal wished they had less layers between them so he could feel those fingernails on his skin.  He wants Will to mark him.  The kiss becomes more passionate at the thought, Hannibal manages to balance himself so he can put his other hand in Will’s hair, running his fingers through it Hannibal moans again.

  
Will breaks away smiling. Hannibal strokes the side of Will’s face skating his thumb across the scar on Will’s cheek.  Leaning in Hannibal gently cups Will’s face and runs his tongue along the scar and then gently kisses it.

Will laughs “are you planning on licking all my wounds?”

Hannibal smiles and looks Will in the eye “would you let me?”

“Maybe.”

Hannibal moves his hands to untuck Will’s shirt from his trousers, Will moves his hands over Hannibal’s to stop him.

“Please.”  Hannibal asks,  Will laughs and lets Hannibal’s hands go.  Hannibal then untucks Will’s shirt unbuttoning it slowly to reveal the skin beneath.  He drags his hands down Will’s chest pushing the shirt to the side so he can run his finger along the smile he had left Will.  Hannibal then crouches down so he can press his lips against the raised skin,  He runs his tongue along the scar relishing the taste.  Will inhales sharply as Hannibal does this “fuck” he breathes out and grabs Hannibal’s hair again pulling his head up to passionately kiss him.  
  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are all adored and loved.


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